


That Innocuous Throb of Life

by Konfessor2U



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anatomy, Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Pulse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/pseuds/Konfessor2U
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John recalls some basic anatomy from medical school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Innocuous Throb of Life

The first time the two shared the sofa like this was the result of Sherlock being childish and demanding, as always, and poor John trying to stand his ground and not give in. John had been lying on the couch reading when Sherlock declared that he needed to sit in the particular spot currently occupied by his flat mate's head. John put up a fight and claimed he was there first and to be fair, he was. They argued about the importance of Sherlock getting to do whatever he wanted while working up a case, but in the end, even John couldn't deny that his friend's habits during a case were critical to his thought process. He sat up, ready to forfeit the seat and move to his chair, but when Sherlock flopped down beside him, he felt the sudden need to stay put. He couldn't let the man win entirely. So he lay back down, using Sherlock's leg as a pillow, and continued reading, all the while a tiny smirk creeping onto his features. John snickered to himself, thinking of a title for this entry in his blog,  _"The Great Compromise."_

The detective sat at the end of the couch with the doctor's head resting in his lap. After that first time in this position, they found that they both quite enjoyed it and they often sought out each other's comfort by sitting like this; John looking up from Sherlock's lap and Sherlock's arm draped heavily across John's chest.

On this particular night, there was no open case and they sat quietly, enjoying the down time, still exhausted from the case they had finished the night before. John was surprised that this tiny amount of physical contact between them was enough to calm Sherlock's frantic and ever bored mind. Usually the detective was losing it within a few hours of finishing a case.

Sherlock rested his chin on a fist, leaning his elbow on the armrest. He was pretending to look forward; pretending to ignore what John was doing to his arm.  _What was John doing to his arm?_

The doctor was fascinated by the seemingly thin skin on the inside of Sherlock's pale forearm. He could see muscles, tendons and veins dance fluidly underneath. Deft fingers palpated the muscle bellies of the forearm while John recalled the names of those muscles from years ago in medical school.

"Brachioradialis muscle. Flexor carpi radialis muscle. Palmaris longus muscle." His voice was a whisper, but in the silence of 221B he may as well been shouting. Sherlock regarded him through narrowed eyes, head still facing forward and up.

His administrations shifted from a deeper, massage like touch to a light touch, barely there. With very slight pressure on his fingertips, he traced the blue tinted veins that were slightly raised from the skin. John made a mental note to try and get Sherlock to eat more from now on, but at this moment, his thin body condition allowed John to truly appreciate the anatomy of the human body.

"Cephalic vein. Basilic vein. Radial vein." John hand stopped at his flat mate's wrist. He paused and glanced up to see if he had broken Sherlock's concentration. It was a game now. He could see signs of him cracking and John could tell he was fighting the urge to look down. Turning his attention back to the arm laid across him, he absently thumbed at the tendons on the inside of Sherlock's wrist.

A wicked grin slowly spread across John's face as he wrapped his fingers around the thin wrist to feel the pulse of the radial artery. The doctor was proud that he could play Sherlock at his own game. He felt especially witty since his wrist watch sat on the inside of his arm so he didn't have to obviously shift to see it. Fifteen seconds of silence passed.  _80 beats per minute; fast resting rate for Sherlock._

"Gorgeous specimen." John breathed, lifting Sherlock's wrist to his lips to softly kiss the quiet throb under the velvety, pale skin. The feel of that energy against his mouth was divine and when he glanced up to see his friend's face, he noted that he had his full attention now. John didn't fail to notice the outrageous blush creeping up Sherlock's neck, painting his beautiful cheeks.


End file.
